by Multiple
“Cody talked to them?” Cody didn’t care for talking. He wasn’t a man of many words on a good day with his family whom he loved, much less with strangers.
“Well, not exactly.” It was Buck’s turn to look evasive.
“What did Cody do?”
“His wolf haunted their camp until their leader, a boy, let him approach. The boy told him to leave the gold in the canyon because it could help you. He said you’d been arrested and that if we gave back what we took, it could help you get free.”
Fear sliced across her belly. The marshal’s youngest brother had ridden out with the searchers that night. She remembered his sweet face, his bashful, enthusiastic grin and the easy way the smile reached his eyes. He was as sweet as the marshal had been sour.
“He told Cody’s wolf?”
Buck nodded slowly, tugging her hand and pulling her over to sit down on a rock. His black hat hung against his shoulders, the tie around his throat. His hair was longer than the other brothers, favoring his Comanche father’s heritage.
“Buck…”
“It’s okay Scarlett.” Buck patted her hand, the comfort weak against the sticky mud of fear clinging to her.
“But if they find out.”
“They won’t.”
“But if they do?”
“They won’t.” Buck sighed. “We are coming. We’ll get you, we’ll go home.”
“Does Quanto know?”
“About you? Yes. About Cody. No, I haven’t had to tell him that.”
“Cody’s wolf never goes to people.”
“Cody’s wolf wants you back. It’s making him irrational.”
Scarlett looked away from Buck. The plaintive note in his voice warned her that Cody was in worse shape than he was admitting too. She was closer to Cody than any of the others, closer because he allowed it. He’d taught her to ride. He’d taken her fishing and even taught her to shoot, after threatening any of the others when she approached them.
Even his wolf liked her. He didn’t mind the brothers, but he let her pet him. Stroking his ears and when no one else was around, he’d flop over on his back and let her stroke his belly.
“I’m not in Dorado.” The decision was more painful than she’d imagined. She was already fond of the Kanes. She didn’t want to disappoint them. She didn’t let herself think about the marshal or the way he’d left the ranch. Maybe it was better that he hadn’t returned. The carnal thoughts she entertained were bad enough.
“We know. Where are you?”
“The Flying K. It’s the Kane’s ranch. It’s east of Dorado. Fifteen, maybe twenty miles. It was dark. I didn’t see the landmarks. But it’s in a bowl valley, created by the hills.”
“We’ll find it. Ike can track anyone. Has the marshal been back out there?”
“No.” Scarlett frowned. “How do you know the marshal’s not here now?”
“Cody scented him in town.” Dread curdled in her stomach.
“Did he hurt him?”
“Scarlett…”
She rose, agitation ratcheting up her spine. “Did he hurt him, Buck?”
Buck sighed. “You more worried about Cody or your Marshal?”
“Dammit, Buck.”
“They’re both fine. But Cody scented you. Not sure how if the marshal hasn’t been back. But he heard the boy talking to the marshal. He knows that’s the man that took you.”
“I’ll try to get away.”
“If you can, send smoke up. We’ll find you. If not, we’re coming.”
The mountainscape melted away.
“Buck, I don’t want anyone hurt.”
But her brother was gone.
Scarlett jerked upwards in the bed. The sun was kissing the horizon, just barely visible to her eastern facing windows. Her brothers were coming.
Outside, the Flying K stirred to life.
Her brothers were coming.
Pushing back the blankets, she rose shakily to her feet. The smothering of her fire had taken its toll on her body, the fever ravaged it, weakening her muscles and giving her the appearance of sickness. Four days later, she was still sore and riding the aftereffects.
She focused on the candle sitting on the dresser. Her eyes narrowed. The wick shimmered and burst into flame.
Her lungs stretched with relief as she released a small measure. She’d need to release more. Rising, she stripped off the dressing gown and fetched her clothes from the top drawer where Lena stored them.
Creeping from her room, she padded down the back stairs, boots in hand. The kitchen was quiet, but she knew that wouldn’t be for long. Lena often baked in the early hours of the morning. Scarlett was careful to keep the door from slamming as she let herself out.
She glanced around the empty yard and darted down three steps to race over the grass. The swimming pond she’d raced to the first day was close, but she chose a second one, hidden by a copse of trees. Lena told her about it during her recovery.
The eastern pond was favored by the family for its privacy. The dewy grass was slippery under her bare feet. The cooler night air would give way under the burn of the sun soon enough, but with the night birds settling in for the day and the morning birds waking to trill, Scarlett was eager to get in the water, to wash and to burn.
She set her boots where Lena told her too. Jebidiah had moved the rock near a break in the trees there. The boots would warn others that the pond was occupied. She ducked between the tree branches, stripping out of her hastily thrown on clothes. Setting them up on a branch away from the water and the grass, the last thing she wanted to do was torch them.
The water was like ice and silk on her skin as she waded out into it. The rising sun dappled the trees, reminding her of the grottos around the lake in the mountains.
Diving under the water, she swam, stretching and cooling her muscles. She rolled over onto her back, floating. The tree branches overhead dipped with the breeze, as though waving. Closing her eyes, she let the heat in her belly go. It shimmered through her skin, bubbling the cool water around her.
Cupping her hands against the water, she felt the flames lick her fingers. She ignited the water, evaporating it and then dipped her hands down to extinguish the flames. She repeated the process until the knots clenching her belly loosened, and replete.
Her fire had somewhere to go.
Delight shivered over her and she dove back down under the water, swimming for a cooler spot and repeating the process. By her third release, she was giddy and splashed like a child, bobbing in and out of the water. The aching pain of containing so much power was gone. Her muscles were soft and relaxed.
Her soul was lighter.
The key to her ability was to control the fire. Her body called to it naturally. It had taken her years to light a candle without torching the area around it. She was used to buckets of water set everywhere in the house. As she’d gotten older, she’d learned that if she controlled when she released it, she could control the damage it did.
Water helped because it was harder to burn water.
But she could burn anything.
Rocks.
Sand.
Water.
She’d tried to push her fire into the pond the day her worry and fear overwhelmed her. Unlike her brothers, her gift was wholly tied to her emotions. She needed to be calm when she was upset, because the world could catch on fire.
The last of the tension wrung from her, she turned for the shore. She was up to her hips in the water when her heart thudded to a halt. Leaning against the rocks, hat pushed back from his forehead, his expression a riot of shock and awe, was the marshal.
“What the hell was that?”
Chapter Ten
“Marshal!” The shocked recrimination in Scarlett’s voice could hardly compare with the stunned amazement holding him rigid in its grasp. He’d seen her darting from the house as he left the stables, having rousted one of the boys to tend to Corona. He’d r
idden half the night to return to the ranch, his unease aroused after encountering the wolf.
He thought her making her escape, but when he’d seen her boots at the bathing pond, he thought only to make sure she was actually swimming before retreating to allow her privacy. He’d tried not to let his gaze linger too long on the slender lines of her pale back as she plunged into the water. Her smooth, strong strokes told him she knew what was doing, but then she’d rolled over and fire sparked across the surface of the water.
Great pillars of fire shot up from her hands only to be doused as she submerged herself. He’d started forward only to see her rise back up, carrying the fire again and again. The water around her teemed and bubbled and then a great gout of flame shot into the sky.
His heart seized in his chest, his first thought was to rescue her from the flaming water. His second, even more startling, was to wonder how she created such a feat.
The man who walked through walls.
The gold stolen from a sealed vault.
The wolf in the town.
Her fever, the rage of it that struck, so swift. Her skin had literally burned his fingertips. Rolling his thumb over the fading blister on his right forefinger, Sam found himself at a complete loss.
Was this minx even human? Was she a demon, risen from hell? Did the scriptures even cover such a being?
Passages from the good book passed through his mind, vague and unformed, as the minx with her fiery hair cavorted in the cold pond. Steam rose in lazy whisper around her, flames licked at the surface of the water, seemingly burning the unburnable, yet he could not look away.
Her skin was rosy, filled with color and life. Her smile, so full of abandon, loosened the stranglehold on his heart. Sam took a step forward, edging closer to the water’s edge. With her thick length of red hair plastered wetly to her shoulders and chest, she was a vision, floating upon the water’s surface, surrounded in golden circlets of flame that both caressed and carried her.
The steam drifted out, a haze of mystical fog, softening the sun’s ruddy, golden haze as it peeked through the trees. Was it even possible that such a being as she could exist? If she was so gifted, how had she let herself be taken? Couldn’t she have turned those flames on him that night? And any moment since?
The questions tumbled like a rockslide, shuddering and bouncing against one another collapsing until only one thought remained.
Had there ever been a woman so beautiful?
Woman.
Not creature.
He fell back against the sunning rocks, placed carefully at the rim of the pond, so bathers could wash and dry their clothes or themselves as they pleased. Sweat dotted his upper lip, the moist air clinging to his face. He pushed the Stetson back off his forehead, desperate to reconcile what he thought possible with what he saw before him.
It was in that moment that she rolled over, her long, pink flushed arms striking for the shore until she stood, the water wrapping around her waist like a skirt of liquid. Her hair clung to the skin of her chest, wrapping her full breasts lovingly, allowing only the barest glimpses of the voluptuous flesh.
Her replete expression chilled as the fire-heated green gaze fell upon him. Fear exploded her bubble of exultation, the chilling look pinching her cheeks and draining her face of its rosy color.
“What the hell was that?”
“What are you doing here?” Her outrage flooded her pale face with color, her eyes sparkling in the mist like some ancient goddess come to life in the midst of the Texas heat.
“I asked the question first.”
“You’re intruding.” Her arms folded over her chest, concealing further the delicious curves her hair teased. “I left my boots on the rock. For privacy.”
“Prisoners don’t have privacy.” Sam yanked the Stetson off his head for wont of something to do. He ran his fingers through his hair. Fire flickered around the edges of the water caressing her belly. His gaze slid down her torso, watching the flames leap and twist, only to duck once more beneath the water.
“I am not your father’s prisoner. I am his guest. I was told I was welcome to take advantage of the pond when I was feeling up for it.” The strain in her voice pulled his gaze upwards. Fear and anger warred for dominance over her features.
He preferred the anger, the tempestuous way her chin lifted, and the flush in her cheeks and the hardness that struck like twin flints in her eyes.
“You’re my prisoner. I arrested you, remember?”
“You left me here, remember?” There it was. Her chin angled up, her back stiffening.
Sam fought the urge to smile.
“And yet, here I am. To check…on my prisoner.”
She growled. The flames around her exploded in dazzling sparks that turned the water droplets on her arms and belly to a rich golden, sheen. Fascinated, Sam grinned wider. His delight only served to irritate her and the fire grew bolder, spreading out from her like a grass fire, circling and hungry.
“Temper, temper minx. We’re awfully fond of this pond.”
She forgot herself, her arms unfolding and her hands clenching into two, adorable, fists. The flames winked out as she slammed her fists against the agitated water. It splashed upwards, parting some of her hair, baring one rosy nipple. They were as strawberry colored as he remembered.
“What are you, minx?”
“Stop calling me that.”
Surprised. “Minx?”
“Yes. I have a name. And the least you could do is turn your back.”
“Considering what I just saw, I don’t think turning my back on you would be wise. Minx.”
To his utter delight, she growled again. He forced himself to continue leaning against the rocks, his hands dropping to rest loosely on his hips. In this manner, he had the high ground, the best view. The ferocity of her emotions was like a wild, summer storm rolling across the prairie.
The air shimmered through the steam rolling off the surface off the water, wavering. He leaned forward, reaching out a hand to find the air’s temperature in front of him was as warm as it would be if he put his hands to a campfire.
“How are you doing that?”
“Doing what?”
She all but stomped her foot with the question, but he ignored the tantrum. “Creating the fire from the water.”
Her fists uncurled, her own hands coming to rest boldly on her hips as she strode forward three steps. He choked as the water licked to below her belly button, the sharp curves of her hips clearly visible. Another step and he would learn whether her nether curls were as red as those atop her head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sam snorted. But her fine, thinly formed eyebrows rose, daring him.
“You know what you need,” he gave her a gimlet stare.
“What?”
“A solid paddling on that sweet little ass of yours.”
A geyser of flame jetted upwards.
“Beautiful.”
The rage winked away, leaving only more steam to filter into the air. The hot, humid air soaked through his shirt.
“You’re insane.” Her irritation faltered, stumbling over puzzlement, as though her face was incapable of disguising the emotions swimming behind her eyes. Ever changeable, just like the sky before a storm, boiling on moment, still and threatening the next.
“What are you, Minx?”
“My name is Scarlett.”
“That it is and it suits you, but so does Minx.” He swiped at the sweat threatening his eyes and leaned forward. “But what are you? How do you do this? I know you didn’t burn into the vault, so there is more than just you, but you are obviously special.”
She fell back a step, the water sweeping up to her belly button. Disappointed at the retreat, he considered aggravating her again.
“Why aren’t you afraid?”
Sam paused. It was a fair question.
“Because you’re not going to
hurt me. You’ve had your opportunities and you didn’t. So either you have enormous control or this is very new to you. Considering your fever of a few days ago and your desperation to reach the water, I believe you have control.”
“You know for a rude, insufferable, irritating and overbearing brute, you’re awfully confident.”
“You realize that most of those words mean the same thing.”
The water exploded up in another geyser, but this time it was only steam, not flames.
Sam laughed.
The geyser shot higher, raining water down on both of them. He turned his face up, letting the warm rain sprinkle on his face.
“And you’re delightful when you’re angry.”
The geyser sputtered out, leaving the soaking Scarlett to gape at him. Her mouth formed a silent ‘o’. Her hands slid off her hips, falling to her sides and exhaustion gnawed at the edges of her expression.
“You’re tired. Come out of there before you hurt yourself.”
“Turn around.”
“You forget, I’ve already seen it all.” Not entirely the truth. But he found that he did want to see it all and there was no denying the fascination anymore. Whatever manner of creature she might be, he was thoroughly captivated.
Her cheeks pinkened, but the agitated water continued to calm. “Turn around.”
“No.”
Her eyes closed, frustrated pique wrinkling her forehead. “Please.”
“Scarlett. I’m not going to hurt you. Come out of the water before I come in and get you.”
Tension beaded the muscles in her shoulders, she twisted, and he could read the play of thoughts on her face. But there was no escape. Even if she struck out for the other shore, he could circle the pond faster.
Sam reached behind him, fetching the broad bathing sheet she’d left next to her clothes on the rocks. “Come.”
He shook the sheet at her invitingly and sighed as she sagged more into the water. The moist air-cooled. Whatever fire she called was obviously abated. The cold pond finally exerting itself against her.
“I’ll close my eyes.” He conceded, finding that he was more interested in getting her safely to the shore than ogling.
